


Never enough

by BlueGlitter



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Euro 2016, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Friendship, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueGlitter/pseuds/BlueGlitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antoine deals with another painful loss, this time in the Euro 2016 final. There's possibly nothing that could cheer him up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never enough

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I wrote this time ago when a Spain-France final was still possible so I decided to post it anyway. I hope you like it!

The final whistle was the worst sound he had heard in his entire life. It meant his dream was over in front of millions of people, spectators of how just another big title at the reach of his fingertips, slipped away. It was tough losing, but it was even worse to do it at home, where the stadium was full of cheerful supporters looking forward a victory which would close a lot of wounds. 

Everybody was there. His family, his friends... all of them were in the stands expecting him to succeed, wanting to be a part of this landmark in his life. Now they would be the witnesses of just another huge disappointment.

His fatigued legs gave up and he fell to the ground, laying on his back, the grass bristles hugging his exhausted frame. The smell of grass always soothed him, but this wouldn’t be the day. He covered his face with his hands, still trying to assume what had just happened. He could hear the distant cheers of the winners, who were about to be crowned as European Champions. 

It was just a matter of looking around a bit to find his teammates crying, not only defeated, but also feeling they had disappointed their nation. They had let them down. Some of them were hugging, trying to spend the sour moment together. Others were just walking around disoriented, wondering what they could have done to change things for the better.

Antoine sat up, hugging his knees, looking at the infinity. At some point the infinity reached the celebration of the winner team, and he couldn’t tear his eyes apart from them. He wished to be in their place, making people happy, and being happy himself.

He still couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to cry, when tears were painting all the faces of his teammates, and probably of a good part of the Saint-Denis crowd. He was in shock, simple as that. He could have scored in the last minutes, but he didn’t. Worse than that, he had scored during the match and it hadn’t been enough. He had given his best, and it hadn’t been enough. It was never enough.

Some of his friends passed by and patted him in the head trying to comfort him, but it was doing nothing to him. Paul helped him to get up and they hugged. He could hear his friend sob like a child. At his young age he was already tasting the most bitter of defeats. That would make him stronger, Antoine thought, but deep inside he knew that kind of scars would never heal. You could live new happier things to forget them, but they were stored in one part of your soul to be with you forever. And they would come back at the weakest times. What-ifs that never were, and most definitely, never would be.

He tried to console Paul, rubbing his back and choking back his own tears. He needed to be strong for him, he would melt down later when nobody could see him. After a few seconds Paul walked away, his head low, giving small steps to meet the next person who could tell him that things wouldn’t be always this bad.

Antoine stood still, near the penalty area, that place where he was so comfortable when playing, and which had brought him so much joy. His home. He glanced over the winners once again and he couldn’t take it anymore. He shook his head and turned around, facing the goal with his hands on his hips, and lowered his head staring at his colourful boots, which contrasted with how grey everything else looked.

He sighed, letting out all the unbearable pressure he had felt during the past weeks. At least it was finally over. At least he could now go on holidays and relax, and forget how he had lost the two most important matches of his career in less than two months. When would he play a final again? Why did he seem destined to lose them all?

Someone squeezed his shoulder gently, and it felt familiar. A red shade appeared on his field of vision, and stood in front of him. Antoine recognized the unmistakable shirt, with the little yellow star sewed proudly over the shield. Even before he could see the face of the owner of that shirt, he was tackled into a tight hug. Now he didn’t need to see his face. He knew.

His friend comforted him. “You don’t deserve this.” He muttered. 

Antoine agreed, he didn’t deserve all this suffering, but somehow he was enduring it. The frustration of feeling unfairly defeated was something he couldn’t stand once, let alone twice. The tears started forming in his eyes, even though he was trying to hold them back.

“You are the greatest, you know it, right? You’re going to win a lot of things for sure because your talent is undeniable.” His friend continued his heartfelt speech, increasing the pressure on Antoine’s body. “We’re gonna work hard so we can win a lot of things together, ok?”

Koke didn’t receive an answer. All he could hear was a deep sob by Antoine, and how his body was trembling into the embrace. He was crying like a baby, fisting Koke’s shirt on his waist. Antoine nuzzled his neck trying to hide his teary face from the public eye, seeking some impossible privacy. 

Antoine’s tears collided against Koke’s skin, and he could swear they felt like burning. It was killing him to see his friend so devastated. He couldn’t enjoy the victory, his teammates were on the other side of the pitch celebrating, chanting stupid songs, and enjoying themselves. Their loud joy contrasted with the silence reigning the opposite side of the pitch. Where some teary Frenchmen were still trying to understand that they had lost a final at home. He felt he belonged to this side, at least for a while. He wanted to make sure that Antoine was fine before joining his countrymen. If being ‘fine’ was something achievable at all for Antoine at that point.

“Come on Grizi, chin up! You did your best, you should feel proud of having brought your country to the final. If if wasn’t for your goals, God knows what would have happened.” 

Antoine thanked Koke’s attempts, but he wasn’t helping. There were literally no words which could make him feel better. He weeped uncontrollably soaking Koke’s shirt, feeling like he would be out of breath soon. Koke kissed his head warmly and rubbed his back reassuringly. 

“Look at me for a second.” Koke asked him.

Antoine complained about leaving the safety of his neck, but obliged. His friend placed his hands on both sides of his head, firmly but tenderly, and he brushed away the tears with his thumbs. Antoine’s face was flushed, his blue eyes were framed by a red tint making them look even sadder. The tears streaming down his cheeks itched. They felt almost painful against his sensitive skin. 

He raised his head and his eyes encountered Koke’s. He was surprised at what he could see. His friend didn’t look like a winner, he actually didn’t look happy at all. His face displayed a gesture of concern mixed with worry. It was almost like he was blaming himself for being one of the culprits of Antoine’s misery. 

“I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Koke apologized, the guilt drying his mouth. He cleared his throat and continued. “Winning is not that great if you’re unhappy.”

Those words resounded on Antoine’s head.. “Don’t do this to me.” He said sniffing..

Koke looked at him confused, still rubbing circles on his cheeks. “Do what?”

“Don’t be sad because of me, please. The only good thing about losing this final is that you get to win it.” He said regaining a normal breathing pace. “You do deserve this.”

It was admirable how Antoine could push aside his sadness to congratulate Koke in such a gracious way. Koke thought that he wouldn’t have reacted that well for sure, and he appreciated Antoine’s words more than anything. He cracked a sincere smile which made Antoine feel a little better. 

“Go, join the celebration!” Antoine said tugging lazily on Koke’s shirt.

Koke brushed away the last teardrops from Antoine’s soaked face and nodded. The redness on Antoine’s eyes was almost unbearable to look at. He just couldn’t leave him there like that.

“You’re right, but before I go…” Koke took off his shirt and offered it to Antoine, who looked at him with a surprised expression. 

“But… This is your European Champion shirt…” Antoine muttered. 

“Yes. And?” Koke answered waving the shirt in Antoine’s direction.

“I can’t accept it. It means a lot for you, you should keep it for yourself, or gift it to a family member, I don’t know…” Antoine explained, still in shock.

“That’s why I want you to keep it. I think my family wouldn’t understand what this shirt actually means to me. I hope that when you look at it, instead of having a bad memory of the match, you remember how much I appreciate you.” Koke explained with a kind smile.

Antoine felt like crying again, but he held back the tears. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just accept it!” Suggested Koke, ruffling Antoine’s hair. He closed up the gap between them, holding the shirt between their bodies.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you as a friend.” Antoine admitted, his chin resting on Koke’s shoulder.

“You are always there when I need you, you’re the best friend I could ask for, that’s what you’ve done.” Koke whispered into his ear and kissed his temple, giving Antoine’s body a last squeeze. 

“Thank you.” Antoine finally said, grabbing the damp shirt. 

Koke said goodbye to him patting his shoulder and ran away. Antoine stood there staring at the red fabric, rubbing with his fingers its softness. He shook his head a few times before noticing... 

He was smiling.


End file.
